


Dreamcatcher

by SmutWithPlot



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:11:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutWithPlot/pseuds/SmutWithPlot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during "The Cricket Game". In which Rumples is a coward, and a woobie pup. For the 50 First Hamburger Dates collection. HER DRESS WAS THE YELLOW OF SUNSHINE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamcatcher

It’s a beautiful morning.

The skies are a wee bit overcast – it might rain this afternoon. I’m watching the clouds, for any hint of falling, so that I might take the herd back in at a moment’s notice. For now, I let them graze, watching over them with the patience I’ve had trained into me by my father, and my father’s father. They’re a beautiful herd, their wool thick and curly, and they’ll make fine thread. If I can keep a good eye on them, and we can avoid wolves, we might have a comfortable winter for once.

_“Papa!”_

I turn, not with terror, but delight, and a smile warms my face as I turn to see my boy. He’s rushing towards me from the house, and although I want to chide him to be careful, the joy on his face stays my hand. He won’t be so happy for so long.

“Hey, Bae,” I greet, and hold out an arm to him. He beams at me, and wraps his arms around me. “How are you this morning?”

“You didn’t eat breakfast with us,” he complains from in the folds of my clothes. “Mama was a bit peeved.”

I chuckle. “Well, it might rain today. I was hoping to give the sheep breakfast ‘fore that happens, yeah?”

The pair of us look out at the sheep. The dogs are patrolling, but their easy step belies no panick. I lean on my right leg, still whole and good, and hug my boy to me. Relishing the perfect moment.

And then just as quick, one of the dogs is barking, and the other sweeps forward. My heart reaches up to my chest as I cling to my boy, but wolves come out of the woods. Before I can do a damned thing, my dogs are down, and they’re tearing into my sheep. I run towards them, yelling in a panick, swinging my shepherd’s staff.

I bring a blow down on his head, but he turns on me.

A flurry of fur and teeth, and I feel the blood more than the bite.

And then screaming, and one of the beasts is on my Bae.

“BAE!” I cry out, and reach for him.

It’s a flash, and then the wolf is an ogre, green and massive, picking my boy up from the ground like he’s nothing.

The field is awash with blood. The sheep are men, so many already fallen, ripped apart and painted with red.

“RUN!” someone’s screaming, and I’m gaping at the man who was my boy, as an ogre tears into him like a piece of roast.

“SPINNER, RUN!” another roars, grabbing me under my arms. I can feel the weeping and sobs from my chest, frozen as I was.

There are three of us, running through the woods. I clutch the wood to my hands, hoping it will comfort me, but I just keep going. We come across another clearing, catching another pair of ogres by surprise. One of the men pulls out a bow, and strikes for his eye, bringing him down. The other pulls out a blade and decapitates him for good measure. I know that I have my staff, but in my right hand, I stumble back in horror at the twisted blade that appears there, my own name carved in unholy symbols, the blood of Zoso drowning it in black and red.

I look down at his laughing, cackling face.

“You made a deal you didn’t understand,” he wheezes.

And as I drop the dagger, and run through the woods, my bad leg screaming at me for my cowardice, his voice calls out to me again.

“You won’t make that mistake again!”

I’m still running when soft hands shake my shoulders.

“Rumplestiltskin!”

I wake with a start, and pull back any reactionary magick, as something inside me recognises that voice before I do.

I’m staring into the bluest eyes the world over, glittering as they are in worry. Guilt grips me – I have no right to cause her any more pain. “Hey,” I whisper.

She gives me a smile, her lips painted red. “Hey.”

I lick my lips, dry as they are from my remembered panick, and check the clock. With horror, I realise that I’ve missed our lunch date. By a full hour.

_How could I have fallen asleep?_

I’m in the shop. I look down to the counter, and realise what I’ve been working on. My lips purse as I decide that the accursed music box was a bit more cursed than I had thought. Enough to put me to sleep, and slip past several of the defenses I have set up around the shop to avoid such things. I raise a hand to Belle, and she takes a step back, eyeing the object of my ire with reasonable wariness as I reach for gloves.

Why I wasn’t using gloves to begin with is a rookie mistake, and I kick myself for it.

“My apologies, dearest,” I say, giving her a warm smile. Shadowed as it probably is by my nightmare. “The magick is strong today. The Curse in this box must have slipped past my defenses.”

She watches as I put it on a shelf, and remove the dragonhide. As I turn back, resting on my good leg, I realise she has a basket.

I also realise she is wearing a dress that is the yellow of sunshine. As dark and gloomy as my world may be, she is determined to brighten up every moment with her very presence. And I genuinely smile in undeserving gratitude.

“Change of plans?” I ask, nodding to the basket.

She smiled. “Well, late as you were, there are only so many places you could be.” She has that knowing smile, that longsuffering look. “Caught up in your work, for instance.” She teases that I should follow her, and like a dutiful dog I do so, cane in hand. She rests the basket on the glass counter top, and I am just so pleased. We are so terribly domestic, at times, but it’s a quiet, wonderful consistency. Even if we never finish one of these damned dates, there will always be the promise of ‘next time’, and a tease of red meat to keep one’s stomach satisfied. I’m opening the collection of white boxes, finding chips and burgers, and I pop one in my mouth – they’re still fresh and hot, and there’s even a bottle of ketchup tucked in there. I say some quip about ‘magickal condiments’ – why she puts up with me, I’ll never know, and we’re discussing options for setting. For today, anyway – another picnick we can try another spot, because with Belle, there’s always a next time.

The promise of next time is truly more than I deserve as it is. And I shall relish it as much as possible.

As if the fates heard my note of optimism, the bell rings, despite the ‘CLOSED’ sign. But I’m in such fine spirits – my lady has rescued me from a garish nightmare, and an afternoon without food as my work claims me again – that I can’t even be upset at the intrusion of the Charmings.

Even when they say Regina’s murdered the cricket. Or was it me? It’s preposterous. For once, I’m completely innocent, and feel no qualms assisting them in their pursuit of justice.

But as they leave, my mind is puzzling, rolling it over in my head. We have evidence of the eyes… But it doesn’t fit. Something doesn’t feel right. Even when Belle takes an arm and leans on my shoulder, she’s troubled, too.

“And the burgers are cold,” she complains.

And I laugh. Never fails, does it?


End file.
